Chapter 15
by jmsutherland
Summary: Sally and Angua set the world to rights.


Page **16** of **16**

**Chapter XV**

Sally's little flat was in The Shades, a place where girls really shouldn't walk on their own because it wasn't safe. Luckily, for the local thug-population, word had got around that trying to attack either of these two _girls_ would have been about the un-safest thing they had ever done in their, very soon to be terminated, lives.

It was the tidiest, cleanest most span-and-spick place Angua had ever seen. Vampires were notorious for -among many, many other things- being compulsively, obsessionally, tidy and clean. Sally mostly tried not live down to her stereotype but this was the exception. Though her hair could be tousled, even dishevelled if the occasion called for it, there would never be a single stray hair out of place in this little shrine to order, apart from the spiders, but then their webs were traditional, and they also kept the bloody flies under control. Angua drew her finger along the top of the bookshelf and tutted:

"Gods, when did you last clean this place?"

"I did it as you were walking up the stairs, as well you know. I'm a Black Ribboner, but giving up cleaning too would be like trying to chuck smoking and drinking on the same day."

"You don't smoke."

"Not anymore, but I used to: long, thin cigarillos, to make me appear more rakish, daring and enticing to the boys. And the girls."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! The blood tastes just as good, whatever cup you drink it from."

"Sally, stop it!"

"Well, you started it."

"No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did, you invaded…"

"SALLY!"

"OK," she agreed, "pour us some…vine, and I'll tell you everything. Or at least everything I remember."

They were curled up together on the settee, the way they used to be before Angua had had the children. To her it seemed like old times, except all this stuff was new.

"Now, the thing is," Sally began, "it's our dirty little secret and considered rather _infra dig_…"

"You sleep in coffins full of dirt and bite people for a living. What could possibly be beneath your dignity?"

"Any more of that and I'll be taking my ball back."

"Oh, no!" cried Angua, "I haven't been to a ball in years."

"Oh, sorry, for a moment there I mistook you for my friend. I wonder where she went, I'm sure she was around here somewhere just a moment ago…"

"Ok, alright, I'll behave, sort of, I promise, sort of, but only if it's a good story."

"Oh, it's a belter, I can assure you."

"Then I shall be a good girl and listen carefully."

"Very well, then," Sally began, "as I was saying, we have a little secret: vampires sometimes find humans attractive, and I don't mean just as a snack…"

"Can I just ask something?" Angua interrupted.

"Oh, if you must," sighed Sally, "what is it this time?"

"Is it just humans? Aren't there any dwarf vampires."

"We're not an off-shoot, you know? We're a different species! But yes, there are vampires that prey on dwarfs, but they never come above ground. Now, can I get back to my story?"

"I'm all ears."

"Actually you're mostly fur, but the ears are quite elongated."

"Oh, cheap," said Angua, "and unworthy of you, but I'll stop interrupting. Go on."

"Right, vampires often reproduce dentally; that whole love at first bite thing you've heard about: the right nibble and Fanny becomes Fangsy. This is considered to be perfectly normal and no one thinks any less of these new vampires for having once been human, as there isn't an oz of human left in them. Otherwise we beget much like any other species; though with a great deal more drama and only on dark and stormy nights.

"But once in a while a male vampire may actually mate with a human female and produce a hybrid. This is generally regarded as being rather unsavoury. However, the child –always a boy- usually gains a grudging acceptance and the matter is hushed up. In fact some girls feed on rumours, as well as blood, and like the idea of a bit of human in a man. They think it lends them a certain rakish quality. But very, very rarely it happens the other way round: a vampire mother gives birth to a part-human child.

"Such a child –always a girl- is considered to be an abomination; she should not even exist and, if discovered, is immediately destroyed. Such children can hardly survive into adulthood, given their status, but the merest hint of such a being anywhere in your lineage is social poison."

"Why, for gods' sakes!? What's the big difference?"

"Because the girls have real human feelings. The boys may, occasionally, manifest emotions such as embarrassment, or even fear, but they are otherwise as selfish and heartless as any decent vampire. It is the girls who are rumoured to feel things like empathy and pity."

"Is that what happened to Lucy?" asked Angua.

"No! No one really knows what happened to Lucy, but it wasn't that. Oh, humans can be monsters, but they couldn't do the things that La Donna Lucrezia did without at least feeling something; even if it was only pleasure. And apparently she rather liked being tortured herself," said Sally, doing that whole vampire-eyebrow-arching thing.

"Well that certainly explains a lot, because I think she still does."

"Perhaps," Sally mused, "but there is nothing in her family history, it is impeccable; no suggestion of anything untoward, not the least hint of any act of kindness in centuries."

"Right, well, anyway, back to you."

"Yes, back to me, because I'm the important one. So, there have been rumours of such a girl in our family for as long as I can remember…"

"You can't even remember who the love of your life was…"

"Will you, please, just let me finish?"

"Sorry," said Angua, with no hint of an apology, "was there any truth in these rumours?"

"My mother loves me and I love her back. I sometimes call her 'mum', for gods' sakes! What more evidence do you need?"

"Ah!" said Angua, as the wick finally caught, "and you fell in love with someone; it wasn't so much who you fell in love as that you fell in love at all."

"Precisely. We do lust, obviously, but we don't do love. Uh, uh, no way, yuck, yuck, yuck, nasties!"

"A bit tacky?"

"Stickier than glue," Sally confirmed.

"So what are we going to do now?"

"What is this _we_ of which you speak?" wondered Sally aloud.

"If you think for an instant that you're going to exclude me from helping my best friend find her lost love, then I'll blow your house down."

"Not if it's made of bricks you won't."

"Be serious. What future do you envisage here?"

"Oh, I can envisage more futures than I can throw a stick at, and I wouldn't want to go throwing any sticks around you; you'd just fetch."

"Rowf!"

"If you want, though, I'll tell you what's going to happen and it's more melodramatic than one of those _Look! Books_."

"What!? All the celebrity gossip? You don't read those, do you?"

"No, but you do."

"Oh, ah, well, er…" Angua began, suddenly embarrassed, "only since I had the children. They take my mind off things."

"I thought they were aimed at people who didn't have minds."

"Hah! Insults now, is it?"

"Yes."

"Never mind all that, get on with your envisaging."

"Ok, this is what I think should happen. You know Lance-Constable Smite?"

"The cute Omnian boy, yes."

"Well, he belongs with Kate from _The Duck and Run_."

"And why would that be?"

"Because he's sweet and knows almost nothing about anything, whereas Kate knows everything about everything."

"That sounds reasonable, go on."

"Then there's that pretty nurse Blister at Morpork Mercy…"

"Which one is she? They're all pretty."

"The REALLY beautiful one."

"Oh, yes, she's best friends with Smite's girlfriend, Shame, isn't she?"

"Yes, and she should go with Patrick from _The Duck_?"

"Why?"

"Same reasons as Kate and Smite: she's an innocent abroad while he knows far, far, far more than he lets on."

"Doesn't that make him a bit dangerous?"

"Oh, yes," agreed Sally, "but not to Blister; Kate would know."

"And what about Shame herself, if Smite is no longer available?"

"Well, I've been having words with Vlad about her, but I'm not sure he's actually corrigible. Mind you, she only seems to have eyes for Igor and I can't see that as being a bad thing for a girl; as a learning experience, if nothing else."

Angua simply couldn't help herself: "Which Igor?"

"What do you mean _which Igor_?!" Sally demanded, incredulous, "have you seen her with another Igor?"

"Eh, no, I just thought…"

"It better not be Igor who works with Ecth-ray, you know, the one who sets the bones, because he puts the moves on everyone, though he does a massage that is simply to kill for. And if it's Igor from _Stomach and Intestines_, then he's already married. And if it's Igor from _Heart and Lungs_ then get in line because the queue is already quite long, and I'm in it…"

Angua could only stare. It was as though a door had been opened for the first time and behind it lay…incomprehensibility. In the end Sally took pity on her:

"You can't tell the difference, can you?"

"Between Igors, of course I can; so can everyone."

"That's not what I mean. What you can't tell is that when they say _Igor_ it always sounds different, as different as _Sally _and _Angua_. And you can't remember one set of mismatched features from another. I don't feel it's fair to ask more of _foreigners_, but of a fellow Überwaldean…"

"You know, Salicia," Angua sighed, "sometimes you can make a point so sharply that I want to take it and hammer it through you black and evil heart."

"I've told you that that doesn't actually work; it's just a myth. Now, will you hear me out?"

"I don't think I have an option, and I won't say the ears thing again."

"So, Harry with Lucy –he already looks out for her, you know?- because she needs some stability in her life for a while. A couple of centuries ought to do it."

"And Vlad wouldn't do?"

"Gods, no, he'd eat her alive, possibly quite literally; though he's been good to her so far."

"Oh, I don't know. From what I've heard our little Lucy was quite the tyrant back in Quirm. Quite literally."

"That was a long time ago; times change."

"Not as much as you might think," Angua disagreed, "let me tell you what I foresee. Patrick and Blister, yes, for the reasons you mention. On the other hand, Kate has had enough younger men, and I daresay will have a lot more. Now what she needs is someone older, a lot older, so I say Vlad."

"Ok, perhaps," laughed Sally, "though I doubt there's anything we could say that would influence either of them."

"Agreed. But Lucy goes with Smite."

"And your reasoning there would be?"

"She needs someone who will love her without reservation; who will treat her with gentleness and kindness… But above all she needs someone who will forgive her, and mean it."

"And what does Smite get out of this?"

"Anyone that innocent and trusting needs to be protected from the Big Bad World. Can you think of anyone better able to do that?"

"No, I can't," Sally conceded, after a few seconds thought, "not even me. So, Lucy protects Smite and Patrick protects Blister; what about Shame?"

"Well, as you know better than I do, though the hands of an Igor are generally the hands of a healer, if you don't want those very powerful hands around your throat, you shouldn't get on the wrong side of them."

"Which isn't easy to do, given that some of them can see round the backs of their own heads."

"Yes, that's very funny, Salicia," said Angua, clearly unamused.

"Oops, now I'm in trouble," laughed Sally, unabashed.

"It's love, you see, or rather: _you_ don't see. Shame loves Igor; loves him for what he does rather than for what he looks like and, bizarrely, he loves her for the same reasons.

"Oh, you can see the desire and lust in Patrick and Bliss, but you can't see that Smite simply loves Lucy, totally and hopelessly and she loves him back equally; in the brief moments when she allows herself to feel worthy of that."

"Yes, this is a beautiful story, Angua, but not every Omnian can have their own dedicated, highly-dangerous bodyguard."

"No," Angua agreed,"that's what the Watch is for, and why Harry met Sally."

"Oh, you bitch! Literally," snarled Sally.

"Grrrr, who's showing their fangs now?"

The tension between them was so great that had someone snapped it they would have ended up on opposite sides of the Disc. They were nose to nose; they were eyeball to eyeball…and they could both go hours without blinking. Then Angua's eyes tracked a single tear down Sally's cheek.

"Gotcha!"

She hugged Sally to her tighter and harder than she'd ever hugged anyone before, including her children and Carrot. Mostly because if she had done she'd probably have broken their spines. She couldn't work out how anyone could possibly cry so much. Oh, she knew soppy girls, mostly teenagers, who could cry for hours, but that was just time, not volume. After about half-an-hour her dress was sodden, Sally's dress was sodden and there were puddles forming. Angua could understand heartbreak, any woman could, but not the amount of liquid. This simply wasn't possible, unless Sally was tapping into ground water. It certainly wasn't coming from the Ankh, because it was clear.

Eventually, after an awfully long time, the wracking sobs gave way to more low-level distress and, finally, just blubbing.

"Well, we clearly needed to get that out, didn't we?" soothed Angua in her best mum-voice.

"es," was all Sally could manage, in a voice so tiny that no human could have heard it.

"And are we feeling better now?" she asked, brushing her cheek.

Sally just sniffed and then looked up at her with eyes as helpless and trusting as Ire's, yet at the same time so filled with heartache and loss that Angua could feel tears from all over her own body rushing towards her eyes in the hope of breaking free.

"Well, I think we should start with a nice cup of tea and perhaps a piece of cake. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"That would be lovely," said Sally, in a still small voice.

"Would you like a handkerchief?"

Beneath her hands Angua felt a sudden change. What a moment before had been a wet sheet wrapped around some twigs was now muscle and iron once again.

"No thank you, mummy," said Sergeant von Humpeding, producing a piece of silk from her sleeve, "I have one of my own."

"Of course you do," said Angua, "and you don't even appear to need it. It's not as though there are any tears or a runny nose, or anything, though I'd swear there was one here only a second or two ago. Also, you don't have puffy eyes and your makeup doesn't look as though it's run; even though it appears to be all over my dress."

"It's called _Allure_, you can get it in all the best Perfumier's."

"Oh, good, so what do we do now?"

"Well," said Sally, thoughtfully "I go and have a word or two with Herr Dreck und Messing, while you and Carrot hang around outside the door, to make sure I don't kill him."

"So, do you want to try and put this together again?" asked Harry.

"What, try to remember, you mean?"

"I will if you will."

"Perhaps we won't like what we find."

"That's a risk I'm prepared to take," said Harry.

"I'm not sure I am," replied Sally, "what if we find out that we hate each other?"

"Well, we'll have to ford that river when we come to it. If we're going to work together then we can't do it with this uncertainty between us."

"There is another possibility," Sally suggested.

"Well, I'll sack you if you'd like," Harry shrugged.

"Really?" said Sally, "that's very kind of you. Or you could resign."

"What? Do something noble, you mean?"

"Uh-hu."

"I'm a vampire, did I forget to mention that?"

"Sorry, I don't seem to remember a memo to that effect. And you're not all vampire."

"Enough, though. So, do you want to try, or not?"

"Alright, but I'm not sure we're going to like it."

"Do you remember how to do it?"

"Sort of, you?"

"After a fashion. Shall we start?"

Sally nodded. They both closed their eyes and reached out towards each other's minds. After a few moments, and still with their eyes closed, they reached out and took each other's hands.

"Are you seeing anything?" asked Sally

"No, you?"

"Nope."

"Wait a minute, can you see Zlobenia?"

"Sort of," Sally replied, "what's the city?"

"Rigour. What a bite that was," Harry sighed.

"Didn't we row down the River Gour?"

"No. I rowed down the River Gour; I don't recall you even touching an oar."

"I was painting my nails."

"You don't have to paint your nails, they do it themselves."

"And?"

"Sorry, I apologise. Anything else?"

"Sailing, in the daylight, on the Great Moulder Lake."

"Were you trying to sunbathe!?"

"Was I wearing a bikini?"

"Yes, you were," said Harry, remembering, fondly.

"No. Wasn't me," said Sally, "modesty was never one of my faults."

"Oh, yes, mmmm…"

"Harry!"

"Sorry, she was just a snack. A sun-light bite, if you will."

"I won't."

"Right, forget that. Now, dig in."

And then it all got quiet and serious.

"Stadtschweinburger, old Mouldavia, All Devils' Eve," mused Sally.

"Schloss Heisshund?" asked Harry, the memory still rather vague.

"We ran away from the ballroom…"

"…down that long gallery…"

"…it was a dark and stormy night…" Sally recalled.

"…you were running away, you were laughing, I was chasing you…"

"…if I'd want to escape, you wouldn't have seen me for smoke…"

"…I caught you by the door of the crypt…"

"…you swept me up in your arms…"

"Our first kiss," they said together and opened their eyes.

"Upyrgrad, the Autumn Palace?" asked Harry.

"Our first _night of passion_. I was young; you took advantage of me."

"You were over forty," he reminded her.

"Exactly," she agreed, "little more than a child."

Harry laughed, in spite of the situation. Sally had always been able to do that to him, he now remembered, another reason that he'd loved her. And he was beginning to remember just how many of those reasons there were.

"And what after that?" he asked.

"Then it gets a little hazy," she replied, ridging her forehead, "actually, it gets very hazy."

"Ok, close your eyes and let's try again."

They both shut their eyes and tried to concentrate. This time he felt Sally grip his hands so tightly it almost hurt. Had he been human she would have broken about fourteen bones.

And then he could see the blazing row he'd had with his parents, his father's monstrous rage and his own, insufficient anger. Then he saw something that wasn't his memory at all but Sally's: his father, towering and terrifying, Sally's mother defending her trembling daughter from his wrath and then…nothing. Blank.

"Keep trying," he urged, but it was no use, whatever came next was no longer part of either of their memories. It had been totally erased.

"Well, Herr Dreck und Messing, what should I do?" asked Sally, unhappily.

"I don't know, Fraulein von Humpeding," Harry replied, no more cheerful, "but I love you. I have loved you since the moment we first met and, whatever you choose, I shall continue to love you until the last moment of my miserable, immortal life. And if you love me, I will never permit anything to come between us ever again. If that helps.

"You know, Harry," said Sally, I think it just might.


End file.
